Macmillan smiled and said, ‘I underestimated you: I’d allowed another couple of hours. I’ve called a meeting for seven. Perhaps you’d like to…?’
Something about Macmillan’s demeanour suggested that Steven shouldn’t ask too many questions. He smiled and said that he’d be back for seven. He walked for a bit, enjoying the bustle of the early-evening crowds and the feel of Christmas in the air after the unnatural quiet of Manchester. He found a wine bar which was playing Christmas carols, and had a glass of Chardonnay. He’d have preferred a large gin but remaining alert for the meeting was a priority. Macmillan hadn’t said that Steven would be asked to report on his progress, or lack of it, but it seemed likely.
Back at Sci-Med he found Macmillan alone.
‘The meeting isn’t here,’ said Macmillan in response to his questioning look. ‘It’s in the Home Secretary’s office.’
When they got there Steven was surprised to find two other cabinet ministers in the room besides the Home Secretary himself, who looked a worried man. In all there were eight people present. Steven nodded to each in turn as they were introduced.
‘The truth is, we haven’t been quite frank with you, Dunbar,’ said Macmillan.
Steven remained impassive while he waited for Macmillan to continue, but his pulse rate rose.
‘In the past it’s always been Sci-Med’s policy to pass on every scrap of relevant information to our people as soon as it became available. In this instance, however, we’ve been forced to hold something back.’
‘Well, they say confession’s good for the soul,’ said Steven dryly.
‘The decision wasn’t taken lightly,’ said Macmillan. ‘It was taken at the very highest level and with the concurrence of the people present in this room. When Sister Mary Xavier caught the disease, a woman who had led a sheltered life in an enclosed order, it seemed to us that your search for a common linking factor could not possibly succeed. You don’t have to be an epidemiologist to see that there simply couldn’t be one. The implications of that conclusion were, of course, enormous: that our country is under attack from a lethal virus which can pop up anywhere and at any time, without the need for a continuous chain of infection.’
‘So what was it that you didn’t tell me?’ asked Steven.
‘We told you about Sister Mary but we didn’t tell you about the others. There have actually been fourteen new wildcard cases across the UK. All without a linking factor.’
Steven blanched at the figure.
‘Because of the medical authorities’ vigilance these people were quickly isolated, but if this is the tip of an iceberg we are facing national disaster on an unprecedented scale,’ said Macmillan.
‘And the steps we must take are draconian,’ said the Home Secretary. ‘We are on the verge of declaring a national state of emergency, with all that implies.’
‘Well, gentlemen, it seems to me that you’ve already made your minds up about the virus,’ said Steven.
‘We told you about Sister Mary because we thought you would investigate and reach the same conclusion before reporting back with your findings,’ said Macmillan. ‘That’s why I brought you here tonight. You do agree, I take it, that there is unlikely to be a traceable source of this virus?’
‘No, I don’t,’ said Steven, to the accompaniment of surprised looks around the room. ‘In fact, I think there is one.’
‘But the nun never left the convent.’
‘She did,’ said Steven. ‘She had heart surgery at a local hospital nine months ago.’
‘So she hasn’t been outside the convent in nine months,’ said a man from the British Medical Association testily. ‘Same difference as far as a viral infection is concerned.’
‘The other wildcards, at least the ones I was told about,’ said Steven with a glance at Macmillan, ‘had also had heart surgery recently.’
‘And you think this is relevant?’ asked the Home Secretary.
‘I don’t know exactly how at the moment, but yes, I do.’
The medical experts all travelled the road that Steven had travelled; they protested that there could be no logical connection between having heart surgery and falling victim to a deadly virus. Steven sat through it all patiently, nodding as people pointed out what he already knew about varying geographic locations, different hospitals and different surgeons, the operations having been performed at different times of the year and for different medical reasons.
‘It’s still a fact that all four had heart surgery,’ said Steven when the protests had died down. ‘And it’s the only thing they had in common.’
‘What d’you think, Macmillan?’ the Home Secretary asked.
‘In the circumstances, I think we should at least look at the medical history of the wildcards we didn’t inform Dr Dunbar about,’ said Macmillan.
‘So we delay bringing in the new emergency measures?’ asked the Home Secretary, looking to the others.
The meeting agreed with Macmillan, although with some reluctance since many still failed to see the relevance.
‘I don’t suppose anyone has done this already, by any chance?’ asked the Home Secretary.
‘As I understand it, the investigation of the patients’ backgrounds was confined to a period of forty-two days, that being twice the conceivable incubation time for such a virus,’ said the Health Secretary.
‘Very well, then, I will recommend to the PM that we delay declaring a national state of emergency for… how long?’
‘A week,’ suggested the hardest sceptics. Suggestions of two weeks and one of a month were whittled down to ten days.
‘What do you say, Dr Dunbar?’ asked the Home Secretary. ‘Can you come up with the source of this damned plague in ten days?’
‘I can but try,’ replied Steven.
‘Anything you need, from secretarial assistance to an aircraft carrier, you only have to ask.’
Steven’s first request when the meeting broke up was for food. He hadn’t eaten since breakfast and he planned to work through the night, using Sci-Med’s resources and computers to gather information about the undeclared wildcard cases. A small team of executive-grade civil servants was drafted in to help with fax and phone communications and by 9 p.m., when his Chinese takeaway arrived, the phone lines were buzzing.
He ate at a computer desk while setting up a new database to accommodate information on the new patients as it arrived. Macmillan came in and caught him with his mouth full. He just wanted to know if Steven had everything he needed and, when Steven nodded, said that there wasn’t much point in him hanging around. Steven agreed but sensed a reluctance in Macmillan to leave.
After an awkward pause, Macmillan cleared his throat and said, ‘I owe you an apology about the missing information. When it became apparent that a state of emergency might be declared, it was unanimously agreed that no further details about the crisis should leave these four walls. We just couldn’t risk it getting out and causing panic on the stock exchange and God knows where else.’
‘I understand,’ said Steven.
‘Call me if there’s any news.’
By midnight it was becoming clear that heart surgery was indeed the common factor. Nine of the fourteen wildcards had had heart surgery within the last year; information on the remaining five was still being sought. Steven called Caroline in Manchester to apologise for having had to rush away at such short notice and to tell her that he was finally making some progress, but there was no reply. He looked at his watch and hoped the reason was that she was fast asleep.
‘So what do we conclude?’ asked Macmillan when Steven phoned to tell him the news.
Steven took a deep breath and said, ‘I think we have to conclude that it was the surgery itself that gave them the virus.’
‘You mean they contracted a new filovirus as a post-operative infection?’ asked Macmillan incredulously.